


Appearance of a Soul

by Flatlander



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flatlander/pseuds/Flatlander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beginning, the Doctor hadn’t realized just how different his species was from humans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appearance of a Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. The His Dark Materials Trilogy by Phillip Pullman belongs to him and Del Rey Books. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.
> 
> Spoilers and Timing: This takes place not long after the pilot episode of the original Doctor Who series with spoilers for that episodes. There are only general spoilers for Phillip Pullman’s books.
> 
> Author’s Notes: This was intended as a few short scenes from various regenerations where daemons play crucial roles in events. I have a second scene written down in a notebook somewhere with the Eighth Doctor, and if I ever actually find the notebook again, I’ll type it up and post it. In the meantime, here’s a scene with the First Doctor.

Every time he found a new Companion, the first few conversations would go about the same each time. It was what he learned about humans; they were often curious about the same things or felt the need to make the same observations aloud. “It’s bigger on the inside,” they’d say, which made him feel a little smug even as he rolled his eyes. “You’re an alien,” they’d say, in alternating tones of fear, curiosity, surprise and doubt, and he’d sigh and bare it and wait until they got over themselves and he and they could focus on whatever wonderful adventure was occurring.

Humans depended so much on their eyes. He looked human. He often acted it-according to them, whenever he wasn’t acting stuffy and “Time-Lordy.” He ate the same foods and got hurt and laughed, seemingly like they did (“Seemingly!” he’d say in a huff. Of course, it was true on a biological sense, but he knew they’d intended it as an insult and he was expected to make some sort of protest).

During all the running, arguing and grandstanding against the latest evil overlord who tried to kill one and one’s family and friends and inadvertently led to one’s first meeting with the Doctor, it was easy for one to overlook the detail that should have been the most obvious difference between Time Lord and Human.

The Doctor never forgot the differences. Humans, meanwhile, always forgot the differences, always let themselves be fooled by what seemed to be similarities. They conveniently put any conflicting traits between their species and his out of their minds…until the inevitable reminders that could no longer be set aside and ignored.

To be fair, the Doctor hadn’t always been aware of all the things that set their species apart. Back in the beginning, he’d thought he’d known enough about the planet that had been his mother’s. He thought he’d prepared for every possibility the first time he’d landed on Earth. He’d been wrong.

“Doctor, may I ask you something?” Ian had asked.

They were in the console room of the old Type 40 time and space vessel. It was a room empty and barren except for the six sided console, the doors and the repetitive circular pattern on the walls.

Ian Chesterton had been aboard the TARDIS for two days. He was a spot of color in a downplayed space. He reached across the console and rested his hand on the back of a komodo dragon. The three foot reptile leaned into the touch but otherwise did not move from its spot atop the dematerialization controls and other essential systems. The animal was the brightest thing in the room, an eyesore that clashed horribly with the Doctor’s pristine TARDIS, and yet the Doctor had already learned how to ignore the thing while doing repairs. The komodo dragon was blocking a display the Doctor wanted to read, but the Doctor wasn’t distressed by that, not yet; instead, he was distracted by the fact that the animal was looking at him. It almost seemed to possess a nervous expression, one that matched its human owner’s.

Ian looked over his shoulder at Barbara, who waved him on. He stroked the dragon’s scales. “I do hope this isn’t too forward. I am afraid I don’t know the Time Lord customs regarding this sort of thing.”

The Doctor broke the staring contest with the lizard. “Yes, yes, spit it out, man.”

He’d been so grumpy back in those days. It was a good thing he outgrew that in his regenerations.

“I was wondering where your daemon was.” Ian looked flustered. “It’s a silly question, I suppose.”

“My what?” What was that phrase humans had, something to do with personal demons and always being bogged down by them? Was that what the dear boy was referring to?

Susan, marvelous and helpful girl that she was, left her station on the far side of the console and came forward with a quick patter of footsteps. Her blonde hair, so like her father’s, was another sight for sore eyes in a room dominated by the color white. “A daemon, grandfather,” she said. “It’s something humans have, a kind of personal pet that a human keeps near at all times.”

Ah. So the komodo dragon was also one of these “daemons.” Such an interesting title to ascribe to a lizard, given its reptilian relation with the serpent, which he was certain played a role in Ian and Barbara’s theological beliefs. Unfortunately, the same reasoning could not be applied to the gray cat peering up from its spot on the floor. The cat stood between Barbara’s legs, and it seemed to be watching the proceedings.

The Doctor had noticed that all humans he’d encountered on Earth had pets. He’d attributed it to a cultural tradition and had not pressed the matter of leaving the animals behind when the humans came aboard. They’d been quite testy when he’d suggested it, now that he thought about it.

Susan reached into a pocket and removed a mouse. The Doctor had seen her feeding the creature, but he hadn’t noted what happened to it beyond that. He’d been busy with repairs to this old TARDIS and making sure the Council hadn’t tracked them down. He peered closer at a pair of twitching whiskers and little eyes. “Good heavens, Susan,” he said, “have you been keeping that in your clothing?” Earth animals were known to carry diseases. If she’d been human-fully human, that is, considering his contribution to her ancestry-he would have worried she was in danger. As it was, Ian and Barbara might come under harm. He’d have to examine this creature.

Susan smiled and stroked the creature’s head with her thumbs. “The other students asked me where my daemon was on the first day of classes, so I befriended this mouse. He’s completely vaccinated, grandfather, don’t worry. I do hope it’s all right if I keep him.”

“Ah. Well.” A granddaughter with hopeful eyes was turning out to be a weakness of his. To break the spell, and to give him time to think of a diplomatic refusal, he turned to Ian.

Barbara had taken several strides forward, and she now stood beside Ian. She’d picked up the cat and now held it in her arms. The humans had identical horrified expressions, down to raised eyebrows, wide-eyed stares and gaping mouths.

It seemed that their animals also appeared horrified, as if they understood what was being said. That did not seem right.

“Daemons are not pets!” Barbara clutched her gray cat closer to her chest. “How can neither of you know what they are?”

“Pets!” The kimono dragon stuck out a tongue, sucked it back in and let out a very human noise of protest. “Did you really just say that?” The creature’s lips moved with the words, and it spoke with the voice of a woman.

On that afternoon, the Doctor learned exactly how large the gap between their species was.


End file.
